


Sophie, Steffy, Staci, Suzie

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dreams, Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos just had the worst dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sophie, Steffy, Staci, Suzie

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SEASON 3.
> 
> To say I am unhappy would be gross understatement.
> 
> I don't own these characters, which is a shame, because I'd treat them so much better.

by Vera d'Auriac

**Just in case you don't read tags and notes: SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SEASON 3!!!**

And there he walked, holding the reins of his horse, that woman beside him, leading her own horse, and then he leaned over and kissed her again. 

“Noooo! Ahhhh!”

“Athos! Athos! It’s okay. You were only dreaming.” 

Athos jerked upright, and as his eyes slowly began to focus, he recognized his favorite dim tavern. And here to his right, soothing hand on his shoulder, sat Aramis. _Aramis really is here! Thank God that part wasn’t a dream_. His screams must have been heard throughout the tavern, because wherever Porthos and d’Artagnan had just been, they now came running back to the table. D’Artagnan took the seat on his left, placing a hand on his other shoulder, while Porthos sat across the table and gripped his hand. 

“Athos, are you well?” asked d’Artagnan. 

“I knew three days of drinking was too much,” Porthos said. “Even for Athos. I mean, no one is happier that Aramis is back from the monastery after four years than I am, but the celebration had to stop sooner or later.” 

Aramis took his chair, but his reassuring hand did not leave Athos's tense back. “I don't think it is the drink. Athos was having a bad dream. Tell us about it, Athos. Perhaps talking about it will soothe your soul.” 

“It was the most horrible dream!” he said. “I don’t know that I can talk about it. And even if I did, I wouldn't know where to start, it’s just so awful.” 

“Start at the very beginning,” said Aramis. 

“It’s a very good place to start,” Porthos nodded. 

Athos shivered, somehow almost as frightened by those words as anything in his dream. In fact, it almost seemed as though the words belonged to the dream. He was awake now, wasn’t he? “Wine,” he rasped out. “I need wine. In the dream, I never drank. It was terrifying.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you at all,” d’Artagnan said, while Porthos, God bless him, filled Athos’s cup. “I can think of nothing _less_ like you, now that I think about it.” 

Athos tried to shake his head while he drank, succeeding in spilling as much wine down the front of his shirt as down his throat. “That wasn’t the worst part,” he said through a coughing fit. “There was this woman.” 

“Now I’m intrigued,” Aramis said with a wide grin. “Yes, you and a woman. That's even more out of character than sobriety. What attracted you to her?” 

“She was good with a sword.” 

“Is that all?” Porthos raised an eyebrow. 

“A woman who is good with a sword is awfully attractive,” d’Artagnan said with a filthy smile. 

“Oh!” said Aramis, clapping his hands together and leaning back. “You mean she was ‘good with a sword.’” He then proceeded to make an obscene gesture, pumping his fist toward the right side of his face while sticking his tongue in his left cheek in rhythm with the motion of his hand. 

“No! Well, yes. But she was genuinely good with a sword, too.” 

“Did the master swordswoman have a name?” Aramis asked before taking a drink. 

“Sophie. I think. Maybe Staci. Anyhow, she was this revolutionary.” 

“Like Ninon?” Porthos asked. “Once Aramis explained it, I could totally see the appeal there.” 

“No, not a noble revolutionary. She was a peasant and a refugee.” 

“So, it was like a people’s revolution?” d’Artagnan asked, clearly as confused by it all as Athos. “Led by this Suzie person?” 

“Steffy,” Athos corrected, but he wasn’t sure that was right, either. 

But Aramis was shaking his head. “Your dream, I hate to say it, makes no logical sense. Not only would you never be involved with someone plotting treason, but a peasant revolution? I can’t imagine such a thing happening in France for a hundred years!” 

“I know!” Athos agreed. “And yet, I was always running to Staci. Because the four of us were fighting all the time and keeping secrets from each other.” 

Porthos shook his head. “But why would we do that? Aramis is back. We all understand why he went away, and now it’s time for the four of us to have adventures together again.” 

“I agree, and yet Sophie was everywhere, all the time, for no reason. I was afraid you would all get annoyed, because you just had to find her tedious. But Aramis was always running off doing other stuff, like assignments for the queen.” 

“Please tell me that’s a euphemism,” Aramis begged with a wicked grin. 

But Athos had to disappoint his friend and shake his head. “And there was important business. There was a terrible villain trying to kill us all. And at first I thought I knew him. His name was familiar, like he was someone from Pinon, perhaps. Maybe a former servant of mine.” 

“Why would one of your former servants want to kill us all?” Porthos asked. 

“I’ve no idea. It turned out he was just totally random, but Suzie had to keep saving me from him.” 

“Because she’s good with a sword?” Aramis once more made his obscene gesture. 

“Exactly. Except, sometimes Constance came to save us all, and I realized that Sophie was totally redundant with Constance around.” 

“My wife is pretty amazing with a sword.” 

Aramis giggled and seemed on the verge of saying something, but Athos rushed on, eager to get it all out while he had the courage. “I think Staci was attracted to my new hat.” When Athos remembered this he shivered more profoundly than he had at any point since waking. Panicked, he searched the table, the floor, the back of his chair, but he didn’t see it! “My hat! Where’s my hat?” 

“Right here,” d’Artagnan said, taking it from where it hung on the far corner of his chair. “You knocked it off while you were sleeping. I didn’t want it to get stepped on.” 

Athos snatched it away from d’Artagnan and stared at it longingly. It was his beloved hat—brown leather, wide brim he could hide behind or peek from under. It was the most beautiful hat in the world, and it was his. “Thank you, God,” he whispered, before putting it on his head. 

“So, what exactly was so awful about this Suzie?” Aramis asked. “I mean, good with a sword and ‘good with a sword’ sound like a pleasant dream to have the one time.” 

“But it somehow wasn’t the one time!” Athos screamed, growing frustrated at his inability to convey the terror he felt. “She ate my very essence somehow. It was impossible to get away from her.” He took a deep, shuddering breath as he recalled another part of his nightmare. “At one point, Anne even showed up.” 

“Anne?” said Aramis. “Why was my Anne in your dream? I might have to draw a line.” 

“Not your Anne. My Anne. Milady. My wife.” 

“That _had_ to be the most horrible part,” d’Artagnan said with a snort. 

“No. At least not the part where she was back in Paris. But what was truly awful was that twenty seconds after I left her, I completely forgot about her again, because of Staci. Sophie. Whatever.” 

“So, I’m confused,” Porthos said, scratching his nose. “This Suzie just took over your life for no reason?” 

“Except that she was good wit a sword,” interjected Aramis. 

“Right. Except that she was good with a sword,” added Porthos. “But the part I’m really not liking is from earlier, when you mentioned that we all fought and kept secrets. Did we ever make up?” 

Athos choked, finally having reached the worst part of his dream. “We did. And then we all went our separate ways. None of us stayed together. And,” Athos paused to stifle a sob. “And I almost wished I had my stupid new hat back, my hair was so awful.” 

“That is, without question, the worst dream I have ever heard,” Porthos said, reaching across the table to squeeze Athos’s trembling hand. 

Aramis nodded. “Agreed. Even if Steffy was good with a sword in all the possible ways that can mean.” 

“Awful,” d’Artagnan nodded. “I had a nightmare a lot like that once about my cousin Oliver.” 

They all shuddered. 

“I should have known I’d find you four here,” said Treville, striding across the tavern. 

Treville! Athos had never been happier to see him alive and well. It truly had been a terrible dream. 

“Are you just going to stay drunk forever, or are you going to be Musketeers again?” Treville asked. 

“Musketeers!” they shouted in unison. 

“Very good,” smiled Treville. “There’s a disturbance in the city.” 

“In the refugee camp?” Athos asked in a trembling voice. 

But Treville raised his eyebrow and shook his head as if he’d never heard such nonsense in his life. “No. The Red Guards are just being a bunch of douchebags. Ready?” 

“Always,” Athos answered with a smile.


End file.
